Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [50]
‘If it wouldn’t shock me,’ said Godscalc.
‘What in God’s name would ever shock you? Gregorio: remember that day in Venice when Duke Philip of Burgundy sent to say he couldn’t join the crusade until next year?’
‘And the groat improved,’ said Gregorio decorously.
‘Well, listen. He’s dying. He thinks he’s dying. He hasn’t fulfilled his knightly vow. So, dear brethren, he has decided to send a fleet anyway, with two or three thousand men under two of his sons.’
‘Illegitimate sons?’ said Gregorio dryly.
‘Illegitimate half-brothers,’ said Nicholas. ‘Antony and Baudouin, in fact. And since they were coming by sea, they called in at Portugal where the King is a nephew of the Duchess of Burgundy, and therefore by marriage their half – half – half …’
‘Never mind,’ said Gregorio. ‘What happened?’
‘The King asked them a favour, since they were passing. On their way to the big crusade at Ancona, to drop into his little crusade on the Barbary coast, and help to free a besieged Portuguese garrison. So, after picking up a few extra ships –’
‘Extra ships?’ the priest said quickly.
‘– one of these being French, it seems that the Burgundians have landed at Ceuta, accompanied among others by eighty-two volunteers from the city of Ghent dressed in black with silver Gs on their backs, which I hope the Barbary pirates can read. Reports say they look like staying for ever, but the Moors don’t seem to mind, and it’s probably cheaper than going to Ancona, and nicely positioned if either the Pope or Duke Philip expires.’
‘Nicholas,’ Godscalc said automatically. ‘A French ship?’ he added.
Nicholas smiled. ‘A roundship called the Ribérac,’ he said. ‘Found at Lagos, and commandeered for a year’s service from its owner, who had just brought a cargo from Cyprus. The owner being –’
‘Jordan de Ribérac!’ Loppe exclaimed. ‘You’ve discovered the Doria? He restored her original name? There’s no doubt it’s the roundship he took from you?’
‘No,’ Nicholas said.
‘But she’s now anchored off Ceuta?’
‘Awkward,’ Nicholas said. ‘But not without possibilities. The honourable vicomte himself has been called back to France.’
‘So who is with the ship?’ said Loppe softly. ‘Crackbene? He was employed to bring her from Cyprus; he might stay to sail her for Portugal?’
No one spoke. At every port, Nicholas had asked about a ship, and a man. Now the ship had been found. Godscalc said, ‘I have no knowledge at all of the roundship; but a sailing-master called Michael Crackbene has been for some weeks in prison for debt at Sanlúcar de Barrameda. Debt, and drink, and a killing. He is unlikely to get out.’
‘I wondered if you knew,’ Nicholas said.
‘And if I hadn’t?’ the priest said. ‘It is our next port of call. Or was to have been.’
‘It still is,’ Nicholas said. ‘Unless you want to buy all the cargo yourself.’
At Zibelterra, the strait that separated Spain from Barbary was so narrow that Gregorio, sailing past, thought that but for the mist he might have glimpsed the masts of the Portuguese fleet below Ceuta, and the high sides of the Doria among them.
The Doria, or the Ribérac, for which Nicholas had just forfeited twenty-five thousand ducats, or its equivalent. Small wonder he meant to have the ship back. Small wonder he was hunting Mick Crackbene, who had left his employment without notice on Cyprus, and, taking contract with Jordan de Ribérac, had sailed the old man and his grandson and the boat out of everyone’s reach. Or so he had thought.
Sanlúcar de Barrameda, the port of Seville, lay in the colder, unfriendly ocean west of Cádiz, and close to the point where the Spanish frontier met that of Portugal and trading galleys bound for London or Flanders would prepare for the long journey north, past Biscay and the wine ports of Gascony. From here, galleys only went north, or turned back eastwards.
Because the journey upriver to Seville was slow, the Ciaretti lay in Sanlúcar to unload and load, denying her passengers a glimpse of the effete and gorgeous kingdom of Castile, whose